After the first astounding rush,
after the weeks at the lake,
the crystal, the clouds, the water lapping the rocks,
the snow breaking under our boots like skin,
& the long mornings in bed. . .

After the tangos in the kitchen,
& our eyes fixed on each other at dinner,
as if we would eat with our lids,
as if we would swallow each other. . .

I find you still
here beside me in bed,
(while my pen scratches the pad
& your skin glows as you read)
& my whole life so mellowed & changed

that at times I cannot remember
the crimp in my heart that brought me to you,
the pain of a marriage like an old ache,
a husband like an arthritic knuckle.

Here, living with you,
love is still the only subject that matters.
I open to you like a flowering wound,
or a trough in the sea filled with dreaming fish,
or a steaming chasm of earth
split by a major quake.

You changed the topography.
Where valleys were,
there are now mountains.
Where deserts were,
there now are seas.

We rub each other,
but we do not wear away.

The sand gets finer
& our skins turn silk.

A man doesn't have time in his life
to have time for everything.
He doesn't have seasons enough to have
a season for every purpose. Ecclesiastes
Was wrong about that.

A man needs to love and to hate at the same moment,
to laugh and cry with the same eyes,
with the same hands to throw stones and to gather them,
to make love in war and war in love.
And to hate and forgive and remember and forget,
to arrange and confuse, to eat and to digest
what history
takes years and years to do.

A man doesn't have time.
When he loses he seeks, when he finds
he forgets, when he forgets he loves, when he loves
he begins to forget.

And his soul is seasoned, his soul
is very professional.
Only his body remains forever
an amateur. It tries and it misses,
gets muddled, doesn't learn a thing,
drunk and blind in its pleasures
and its pains.

He will die as figs die in autumn,
Shriveled and full of himself and sweet,
the leaves growing dry on the ground,
the bare branches pointing to the place
where there's time for everything.

Your hands easy
weight, teasing the bees
hived in my hair, your smile at the
***** of my cheek. On the
occasion, you press
above me, glowing, spouting
readiness, mystery rapes
my reason

When you have withdrawn
your self and the magic, when
only the smell of your
love lingers between
my *******, then, only
then, can I greedily consume
your presence.

We once shared nights that lasted forever.
     It was that time in which I realized who you were.

You were the sheets that kept me warm at night.
     That's when I knew.

You were the light within the dark.
     That's when it was real.

You are for me, what I wasn't for myself.
     That's when it became fear.

I told you things had changed.
     It was heartless and cold.

Now you wonder why.
     And I, what if .

Sometimes, I realized
that I don't need you anymore,
your words sounds so cruel
though it's not even my mistake.
You always complain
that I'm doing it wrong,
can you not see
I'm doing it right for you?
You're trying to change the person
you may haven't  known yet,
so stop taking me to the edge,
where the end is near,
for I always let you win
in this tug of war.

But even if you used
to be like what they heard,
I can still find a reason to stay
inside the warmth of your heart.
I'm falling in love even more
the moment you utter my name,
always makes me think
that you're one of a kind,
so why should I lose you?
And so most of the times
I then realized
that I can't imagine
life without you,
that living alone
with no love of yours
feels like committing suicide.

I fall fast
try and keep up
cupid's curse
my misfortune
but love late
is love lost
why wait?
Jump!
look later
or miss me
today and tomorrow,
our periods past
stay strong in the search,
live love lasts

When you are
sitting in an empty room,
waiting for a call,
that you know is
never gunna come.

When you're  
sick of having
to hurt yourself
just to feel anything at all.

When you are literally,
a butterfly-heart
staring into a spider's eyes.
Caught in the web of
a mess much larger than
your deepest fears.
Remember, **** gets better.

When I look within my arms, there’s nobody there.
No head on this shoulder, it doesn’t seem fair
for the chauvinists and players to always have a girl.
While the nice guy sits alone, the only pearl
in an ocean of sharks and poison, waiting
for the unsuspecting to bite on this strange thing
called love, shared between those too drunk
to drive, but still steering their lives into the abyss
where there are no pearls and no lifelines to save them.
But still they plunge deeper, fated to do it again.

Only time will expose the light of day
and they will blink their eyes and say,
what was I thinking?  What was the point?
and finally they realize what they really want.
But all that’s left are the sharks with their egos to flaunt.
So they pick one and get used to the bitter ocean.
They keep up this lie in order to go on.
And then when the tide finally rolls in,
they can’t swallow their pride anymore
so they choke on reality and swim to shore.

But there is no pearl necklace to hide their past-
no amount of make-up to hide their last
affair.  Its mark will always mar that perfect face.
And when they’re finally ready to find a pearl in this dangerous place
he’s been snatched up, made his own mistakes,
gone places impure, and hard to erase.
So these crimes of adolescence can withstand the waves
and wear away at the innocence sending us closer to our graves
Stealing away the weak and repeating the cycle.